


Was there a boy at all

by flowersaretarts



Series: Violets [6]
Category: Withnail & I (1986)
Genre: Drama, Drug Abuse, Hallucinations, M/M, Neglect, Suicide, obscure reality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-09
Updated: 2015-02-09
Packaged: 2018-03-11 08:33:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3320822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowersaretarts/pseuds/flowersaretarts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Withnail is in the countryside with his best friend again and everything looks normal, even better than usual. But can he trust his own senses, or is it all just a trick of mind?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Was there a boy at all

Away from the farm we rode, further from that damp hole.  
Damn right, we were riding, my bloody horses, had I not inherited this pair of mares?  
The rain had stopped and finally, for the first time I remember this place, the clouds retreated the hell back to where they came from.

I jumped off the horse’s back and ran up the hill, the same place where I once swore I’m going to be a star.  
The star I had become, I made it, and he didn’t.  
He remained by my side after his return from Manchester, and didn’t seem willing to leave. How could he even, where the fuck would he go?  
He was there watching me, looking up at me in admiration, as he always did.  
There went my arms, I hollered at the sky as if I tried to tear my lungs apart.  
And in this wind and the blinding shower of sunshine  
I noticed him turning away from me, hiding his face.  
What now? Is it really the time for sulking?  
Envy me, now?  
-What’s the matter with you? - I asked impatiently.  
He remained silent, his head hung low.  
-Don’t be ridiculous…- I reached for his shoulder and grabbed it, but my fingers went all the way through it.

What the… I felt cold sweat running down my spine.  
That couldn’t be real.  
My hand went through the thin air again and dropped instead of touching the black leather of his coat.

I wasn’t drunk enough to imagine it. I hadn’t a single pill in weeks. What is it, then? Fuck, my brain, what is that with you? The headache stroke me, sudden pain pierced my temples.

-Oh, bollocks, my head is pulsing. Some weird shit is happening, for a second I thought you weren’t real.  
-Am I real, Withnail? Am I really? - I heard.

He spoke in his usual soft voice that used to soothe me in my worst times; and now it sounded so distant.  
He vanished. There was nothing anywhere around me.  
Splash.  
Where’s damned water? I am miles away from the lakes.  
The pain was sharp, the blade ran inside of my skull again, forcing me to close my eyes.  
When it stopped I heard the water splishing, smelled the river, and boy it stank!  
The streetlights reflecting in the dark water, their thin bodies distorted in the ripples.  
Heavy panting.

-I can’t…I can’t…I want it to stop! I can’t fight it anymore!

He sobbed, he cried, trembled and shook in terror, attacked by the invisible and non-existed enemy, brought to life by his own weak mind and the gargantuan overdose.  
No, you won’t, silly ponce you.  
This time I won’t fail.  
The midnight abyss won’t have you this time.

-I got you, I got you. - I kept saying like a demented parrot, clutching his clothes. I dragged him down and helped him sit on the cold ground.  
He left the flat in a rush wearing only his jeans and a thin jumper, the poor sod must have frozen to the marrow by now.

-No, no, you have not, Withnail. - he whispered.  
-Haven’t what, you fool? Get up, for fuck’s sake!  
His gave me that miserable wet dog glance.  
-Haven’t got me.

Whooosh. Crack. Snap. The howling wind.

There I was again, in the hills, in the merry fucking sunlit countryside, alone.  
I remembered now. Two o’clock at night, the late party, Danny with a handful of multicoloured pills.  
Ed contemplating our sink of plentitude.  
Danny retreating to the bathroom.  
Marwood screaming, moving around in fear.  
Laughter.

-Help me, With, I can’t!  
-Shut up, the sugar is in the bowl.  
-With, I feel dreadful! Please!

Surpirsed Danny’s face.

-The fuck did he go?  
-He’s got the fear again, nothing extraordinary. Ran downstairs.  
-I highly recommend you go after him, man.

Us laughing, watching him through the window.  
Then me, following him with the bottle of scotch,  
preparing myself to enjoy the fun of Marwood behaving like a beheaded chicken.  
Me staring and gulping the booze.  
Then the splash.  
No, I am not getting down there to get wet, no fucking way.  
The police. The ambulance.  
That was it.  
Then who was with me all these years? Have I gone insane?

\- You most certainly have, Withnail. Your mind is well and truly fucked, lovey. That is as true as the fact that I am dead to you. Literally.

The bastard popped out of nowhere and stood there as if he’d never been gone, grinning, his wild mane flapping in the wind, the beautiful shiny fuck.

I ran to him, flailing my arms like a fucked windmill.  
Like I ran that night when he stood with his bare feet on the rails of the bridge. When I chickened out and didn’t save his life.  
I loathed myself for that as much as I loathed the pain in my throat and the fire in my chest, the regret, the shame, and the inevitable ugly crying. I had them all.

I knelt and couldn’t help but cling to him and bury my face in the folds of his old battered coat  
I swear I was feeling the warmth of his body. The very same warmth I used to feel every time I used to occasionally wake up next to him, the warmth I missed so much since his Great Leap of Unfaith and drunk myself silly to ease the pain and forget.  
I succedeed, I achieved the oblivion.  
The memories of my life were nothing but Fata Morgana, the bitchy Queen of all the delusions.

The realization rendered me numb, I didn’t know what to know, what to think, how to live anymore.  
He is here, and he is dead.  
This is the last time, then he will be gone forever, I knew that. I shall keep the memory,  
but never again will I look into his eyes.

Forgive me, Peter. Forgive me.

All I could say I said on the inside. I could not utter a word. Ever. Could not say how much I needed him. He would never know.

Marwood turned around, he had tears in his eyes as his image began to faint. Or at least I wished he had.  
He smiled at me for the last time:

-I shall…

-…Miss you. - I muttered, getting back to my feet.

I walked back to the pissed off horse and pulled the reigns, making it follow me.  
Of course, there wasn’t the second one. I came here alone, and so I was leaving on my own, as the merciless sky began to bruise.


End file.
